The job was okay, but he hated the unfocused minutes in the car. His thoughts, left undirected, headed back to November. His heart would beat in uneven rhythms. His breathing became chaotic. Hell came to his doorstep again.
If there's one thing I have said,
is that the dreams I once had, now lay in bed.
As the four winds blow, my wits through the door,
it's been the worst day since yesterday
1 comment:
'your' doorstep? what about mine?
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